


From the Steps of the Lighthouse

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [227]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Fluff, Hurt Stephen Strange, M/M, Magical Exhaustion, Passion, Short & Sweet, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trust, balance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Sometimes the burden of what they do was just too much to handle alone.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [227]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1118655
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	From the Steps of the Lighthouse

Stephen was being watched.

He knew this and had known for the past forty minutes when a shadow had darkened the doorway behind him. Stephen hadn’t reacted, could sense in the air he breathed, the slight tang of metal, oil, and sweat. Familiar cologne had coated his nose and his eyes, though not turned in his direction, could easily make out details of the abstract person. Their emotions too, were a dead giveaway, seeping into the Sanctum and shifting the aura ever so slightly to reflect unease and uncertainty.

Tony hadn’t moved, not once this entire time. His arms remained folded in front him, his posture stiff despite how he lounged against the doorframe, warm brown eyes glinting with intelligence and weariness. Stephen yearned to go to him, to reassure the man he loved for the hundredth time that nothing in this room could hurt him, not while he was there and controlling the forces around them.

If only it wouldn’t fall on deaf ears.

As it was, Stephen continued for a little while longer, going through the exercises Wong had laid out with studied precision and an aching heart. Sweat had beaded up along his forehead, ran down his temple. His arms ached from where they remained held high, sometimes stiff and other times fluid and loose. Though, it was nothing compared to the agony causing his fingers to spasm…which was the point of all this of course. Stephen needed them to hurt, wanted to feel the muscles protesting and the skin swelling and brutality of the cramping. He had to grow used to it and accept the pain so he would not falter beneath it, so he could maintain a spell even when everything inside him demanded he quit. Stephen refused to let such a weakness keep him from defending lives, especially of those he loved.

A sharp intake of breath. Stephen frowned.

“Stop.”

He didn’t. Kept his focus on the swirling patterns before his eyes, on the way the Sanctum urged him onwards, supporting him the best it could because it knew he was its defender, was the only thing keeping the relics from wreaking havoc and he needed to be strong, to-

“Stephen _stop_.”

His concentration shattered, fell into a million little shards that sliced at his skin for his failure. The symbols dissolved into dust and sunk toward the floor, disappearing before touching the hard wood of the Sanctum. Stephen hadn’t realized but he was breathing hard, heart hammering away in his chest like it might break free and escape. The trembling he had felt so keenly in his arms and hands had spread through out his body and it was very possible, he had over-exerted himself again.

Warm brown eyes walked into his line of sight; brow pulled low on expression that almost seemed tortured. Tony said nothing, simply pulled him into his arms, holding his weight as Stephen’s head sank down to rest on a firm shoulder.

Stephen breathed.

Felt himself settle back into his skin, his mind which had been sailing so far ahead of him, had slipped from his consciousness and into the other…the place where there is only the magic and the will and the power, connected once more with his body. The pain, like an elastic band snapped back into place and it was no longer some distant thing, it was all at once, making him bit his lip, drawing blood, making him let out a quiet gasp.

Tony’s hands tightened around him. Stephen felt something like shame stir in his gut. It was only compounded with the way he was handled so delicately, as Tony guided him to the couch, sitting him down and kneeling in front of him. The intensity of emotion in his eyes, the one that said he’d never understand, that he loved him and hurt for him, that wanted him to stop, only served to make Stephen look away.

“I hate what it does to you,” Tony whispered.

A thumb swiped at his cheek, brushing away a tear Stephen hadn’t known he’d shed. Words crowded the tip of tongue; promises he couldn’t keep and useless declarations that wouldn’t stem the hurt hemorrhaging from them both. Loving Tony was hard on days like these, on days when the magic came first and the feelings came second.

But then, Tony had days like that too. When Stephen would watch from his own quiet corner as passion and desperation rode him hard, forcing him keep inventing, building, creating. It left Stephen cold because he couldn’t measure, because he’d be left in the dust if the frenzy never died. A quiet, unseen death of his heart.

He knew that was how Tony saw it. That some days he woke to the man looking down at him and his thoughts written all over his face, a nightmare fresh as the morning dew, warning him that someday, Stephen might never wake from his own world of magic and defense. That he’d be left behind to grieve a half-real man.

Stephen reached out, stole those familiar hands and held them in his own. They were night and day, his scarred and broken by his own mistakes. Tony’s calloused and dirty from his own choices. Sometimes it was overwhelming but not today, not in the way it could be.

No, Stephen lifted them until he could kiss bruised knuckles and map the oil stains, fresh burns, and scratches from a very long day. Watched Tony’s eyes lighten some with the promise that he was there, they both were, and this was just another day and others would be better if they were willing to wait for them.

Soon Wong would return to watch over the Sanctum, would level weary and worried eyes on Stephen but say nothing, not with Tony there to look after him, not until the next day when he would try, yet again to teach Stephen to use the magic and not let it use him. He and Tony would fall asleep in the plush bed of his tower, holding each other close and whispering the promise of;

“I love you.”

Just to hear it again, returned.

“I love you too.”


End file.
